


The Other Side

by kindoflike



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7746919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindoflike/pseuds/kindoflike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You can’t be more subtle than that, you don't think. So you drop it, basically. Let it become. </p><p>And become it does.' </p><p>Modern AU Clarke and Lexa, through the eyes of other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Modern AU. A random collection of snapshots of a relationship. From another perspective. Might continue not sure at this point. Anyway, enjoy the randomness

You aren’t blind, for fucks sake. 

You tried to prod a little, at first 

“So you and her get along really well’ 

She just nods and grins 

“I mean like, really well’ 

She shrugs, keeps collecting plates off the table 

“Yeah, I mean she’s friends with you guys so it would be weird if we didn't’ 

You can’t be more subtle than that, you don't think. So you drop it, basically. Let it become. 

And become it does. 

\--  
It seemed to happen kind of suddenly. Without anyone really noticing. 

One day, they were friends just like everyone else. 

And then, Clarke is at her house every night. And She can’t tell a story without Clarke’s name.  
And Lexa’s sister kisses them both on the head to say goodnight. And Lexa waits to do her laundry so they can do it together and waits for breakfast on Sunday mornings so they can do it together and waits to watch the latest episode so they can do it together. And if they end up sitting together, on the couch or around the table, it's just that little inch too close.  
They speak a language of laughter that everyone else struggles to understand in quite the same way and they are, above all else, constantly kind to one another. 

It happens quietly. 

And it's only when Lexa leaves. Goes away for a while that you even notice. 

Clarke is bereft. Had a life intertwined. Feels an absence more than you understand. 

\--

 

\--  
You are all sitting at the dining table after a beautiful dinner and there’s too many of you, really, squeezed in and around and so the conversations have morphed into little groups of twos and threes. 

Lexa gets up to go over to do the dishes and everyone knows it's her job, after her sister has done all the cooking. But then you see Clarke extract herself from a conversation with Gus and walk into the kitchen and she brushes the back of Lexa’s jeans and without looking up, Lexa moves out of the way and gets a tea towel and Clarke turns the taps on and starts doing the washing up. 

The whole motion is so fluid and practiced, you wonder how many nights they’ve done it before and you are almost about to stand yourself and offer to help but then:

Clarke hands Lexa the first washed plate and Lexa takes it and starts drying it. Two beats later, she leans up and kisses Clarke on the cheek. You can’t see Clarke’s face but Lexa smiles back at something she must’ve said and then they just go on. Wash, wash Wash, dry dry dry. 

And it plants you in your seat, the moment. Things make sense, suddenly. Of course, of course, of course.

 

\--  
There’s only one person in the world who can calm her down when she gets in one of these moods. When she starts running her hands through her hair over and over and over again so it sticks up all weird and wild. When she starts rubbing at her neck with her hand and starts to favour her right side when she walks. When she opens and closes her palms.. Open and close. Open and close. Open and close. 

You had thought it was only Rees. Her physiotherapist. Who speaks to her in that broad, laconic Australian accent that he has. Who listens to her. Who knows where it hurts. 

But. It turns out there's two. Two people in the world. And the second one doesn’t cost $62 a week.  
\--

She makes people laugh so hard they forget to ask her if she’s okay. 

\--  
You probably can't hold a candle next to Lexa. 

When all it takes is one of her hands on Clarke’s lower back to stop her from clenching her palms and running her hands through her thick wild hair. When they swap stares and looks and when Lexa has this secret smile, all crooked like, that seems to be singularly reserved for Clarke. 

They don't feel like a fire. There is nothing raging and destructive about them. It’s not too hot, it won’t burn. 

They are like the sea, you think. Maybe the sea and the sand. Assured. Constant. Calm.  
They stay themselves, knowing completing and utterly that they will meet again, and again, over and over. They are in the waves. . 

And what is a candle next to the ocean? 

\--

When Lexa comes back it becomes unavoidable. 

She hugs you and Octavia and she seems excited to see you and answers all your questions.  
Hours pass of catching up, of feeling like anything you say is slightly inferior to the fact that She went to bloody New York. 

There’s a knock at the front door and you say ‘That must be Clarke’ and the look on Lexa’s face is the brightest thing you ever did see. 

And she jumps up and opens it faster than you’ve ever seen and she muffles what sounds like Clarke trying to say hello by leaping into Clarke’s arms and it's not something you ever thought Lexa would do, surrender herself like that. 

And Clarke, who normally starts tapping on people's backs three seconds after a hug to let them know she’s done with this, is squeezing just as tight and Lexa is whispering things into her hair and Clarke has her eyes shut and she lifts Lexa up and is seconds away from spinning her around. 

And it's so awfully intimate that you and O share a glance and kind of have to look away. 

 

\--

\--

You notice it. You can’t say you don't notice it. 

The quiet way they are. 

She steps back into her. 

It seems simple. They are just standing next to each other. But it's so much more more, somehow. 

\--

It's probably the biggest party they’ve had at their place.

It pulses and sways. 

There are people everywhere. 

Clarke doesn't have work tomorrow and she hasn’t drunk in ages. So it doesn't really surprise you that she’s a little worse for wear a few hours in and a bottle of wine down. 

Lexa is doing her thing. Talking to new arrivals, friends of friends and keeping the music going. 

You see her standing by the iPod and you almost go over to talk to her but then someone else comes and gathers her in a huge hug. 

Bellamy comes and pulls at your sleeve 

“Hey, Clarke isn’t looking too crash hot.’ And she isn't. She’s sitting on one of the crates and her eyes are struggling to stay open, her head lulling. 

Something needs to be done, probably. Nothing major. She just needs to go to bed and drink some water and if this was two years ago, or even one year ago. You would’ve done it without hesitation. With help from Bell, maybe. Or whoever was closest. 

But it's not then, it's now, and things have changed and you nod at Bellamy and say 

“I’ll get Lexa.’’  
\--\\\

 

Clarke gets hit by a car. 

It's happened before, a bunch of times. 

But this time she isn't so lucky. This time she can’t just get up and walk the bike home and hobble around gingerly for a couple of days, joking and smiling the second she gets back on her feet. 

This time there is blood. 

You didn't actually see it happen, obviously. It was when she was on the way home from work on Friday afternoon and you don't hear about it til what is actually Saturday morning. 

Apparently she’d been struck by a car and the driver had called an ambulance. It took another few hours before the hospital had been able to contact anyone and after first calling her Mum they’d called her housemate Finn. Finn then rang Lexa and Lexa ran over your place at 2.02am in the morning, not crying but the most close to it you’d ever seen. 

There was always something so put together about Lexa – Indra had always referred to her as ‘unflappable’ - that to see her like this was probably the most frightening part of it all. 

‘Lexa, she’s going to be okay, isn't she?’ 

Lexa just takes a breath but she nods a little while later and whispers, kind of to herself. 

“Yeah. She’s not going anywhere.’ 

The next morning 

You are all piled into the car, Lexa, Anya, Finn with Raven and Octavia sharing one seat, driving to the hospital. No one is speaking. Not even Raven and you kind of want to laugh at how it would be Clarke who would be finding the somber silence unbearable. You can just imagine the way her mouth would be moving millions of miles an hour to fill the gaps. You turn the radio on to triple J and its that horrible screamo stuff and Clarke would surely make the same comment she makes every time you turn triple J on ‘I try so fucking hard to like it but every damn time I turn it on its this shit and I want to tear my ears off.’ 

She’s not fucking dead, you have to remind yourself. 

‘Finn,’ you ask ‘What did the doctors say exactly.’ 

He’s looking out the window and the question brings him out of whatever deep thought he was in. 

“She’s pretty badly bruised and she was, um she was unconcious. I think they said she would probably wake up soon, was just super concussed. She’ll be okay, they reckon. Just pretty beaten up.’ 

You take comfort in his words.The whole car seems to breathe.

 

‘She broke some ribs, too. Fuck knows how she’ll do without being allowed to laugh.’’ He adds as an afterthought. 

 

You see in the rear-view mirror: the ghost of a smile on Lexa’s face.  
\--

You are all allowed into her room to visit.

She’s asleep, but they said she should wake up soon. Her face is pretty bruised, a black eye and some bad cuts and grazes. Her arms too and hands are all bandaged up and her usually glowing skin is pale. Still, you think, she’s here. 

You all gather around her. Lexa looks so desperately in need of something that none of you can offer. She goes to stand next to Clarke's head and grips the rails of the bed so tightly her knuckles go white. 

It doesn't take long, maybe a minute or two for her to wake up, Clarke would never want to miss out on a social event. 

Her eyes open slowly, the bruised one taking a little longer. She looks around kind of registering everything and then a lazy smile cracks across her face. 

“Sup ya’ll’ 

You all let out a collective sigh of relief. 

Anya jumps in 

“How are you feeling ‘ 

Clarke licks her lips and her voice is scratchy when she replies 

“Fucked. I missed brunch.’ 

You all laugh. 

Anya says ‘I’m going to and get the nurse’ 

And Octavia, holding onto Raven, says ‘We are going to get you some water’ 

And Finn says ‘I’m going to go and call your Mum. Tell her you’ve woken up.’ 

You want to stay but Anya gives you a look like ‘you need to leave too, for a bit’ 

So you do, but you catch the moment before you head out 

Where Clarke turns her head slowly to face Lexa and she says blearily, still sounding so incredibly happy to see her 

‘Hey baby’ 

And Lexa looks like she’s trying so hard to not touch her, like she’s trying to contain the thousands of emotions that are coursing through her. 

You see her lean down and press their foreheads together and Clarke closes her eyes and even with the bruise and the grazes and the blood she looks serene. 

It's too much, all of a sudden. So you leave. They don't notice the shutting of the door.


End file.
